


That Redmond Blood!

by DixieDale



Category: Clan O'Donnell - Fandom, Garrison's Gorillas
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-04
Updated: 2018-06-04
Packaged: 2019-05-17 21:24:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,617
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14839433
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: "And why should I help you in the first place?  Miserable lying little bastard!", she screeched at him.  Somehow, this was not what the small blond man had been expecting from the redhead who'd been so solicitious before.  He looked nervously at the rocks below.  As she hurled herself at him in a fury, he stumbled and they plunged over the side of the cliffs, the swooping seagulls answered his panicked shriek, to be followed with the words, "You're fuckin crazy, you know that??!!!"  He'd never considered those might be his last words.





	That Redmond Blood!

While there were other thoughts running, indeed dashing through her mind, one kept coming to the forefront. {"Sweet Mother, I'm tired! Too damned tired to be diving off a freaking cliff!"}

She didn't see that she had much of a choice, though, and she had pretty well dragged the flaxen-haired man along with her, his panicked shriek echoing along the cliffside, the swooping gulls calling back to him. She didn't know if they were encouraging him or trying to remind him he didn't seem to have wings, but they were most vociferous and loud about it, whichever. That was bound to draw their captors' attention, bring them in this direction, well, if they hadn't already been in constant view of those armed men in the first place!

She'd been worrying at her blouse the whole time they'd been arguing and had the sleeve cuff loosened enough she would be able to rip it free when needed, leaving it caught on whatever was handy; it might help, it might not, but it was worth a try. Now, ripped sleeve tossed into the shrubby growth at the top as they toppled over, she focused on trying to keep this from truly being their swan song.

She grabbed one-handedly at branches on the way down, trying to slow their descent, and they were lucky enough she was able to shift their angle onto a small outcropping, well hidden from above. Still, it wasn't a pleasant experience, the landing hard and jarring, and she lay for several minutes, listening to the blood rush through her veins, her head and heart pounding. She could feel his body next to hers, so she knew she'd been successful in keeping him from continuing his downward flight, but she didn't hear any sound except her own heartbeat. Since her body didn't seem inclined to do anything else for the moment, she let her mind drift back over the events that led up to that lovely little swan dive.

She'd been picked up at the submarine pen to be taken for debriefing, standard procedure; even the corporal who drove the military vehicle was slightly familiar to her, had been her escort on three, maybe four occasions. So there had been nothing to indicate this was anything unusual, not til they headed in a direction she wasn't expecting.

Corporal White had explained, "orders, Miss. Was told to bring you to the billet at Ramsgate without delay; there's a basket on the floorboard if you're hungry or thirsty."

Well, yes, she was, but some inner caution overroad her body's urging; {"you're just being silly, denying yourself,"} she chided her innate suspicion, but seeing it had served her so well for so many years, she shrugged, and rummaged through the basket, crumpling paper, opening the bottle, but not really sampling anything. She tore pieces off the sandwich, stashing them under the seat, suppressing a giggle at what the cleaners would think when they were put to trying to track down that rancid smell that would be sure to appear sooner or later. The contents of the bottle she let dribble out a bit at a time, recapped the bottle halfway through, and settled down to a light doze.

Later she'd be very glad of that forebearance, wondering just what shape she'd be in if she HAD partaken, just how receptive to suggestion. And there was the thought, {"Ramsgate!" Now that could be fortunate, if there really is trouble, considering the amount of time I've spent there."}

One of her older cousins had a place there, and she'd spent many a happy hour investigating the area, climbing, exploring, testing her skill and strength against the cliffs and the sea. She smiled to herself when the car came to a stop outside a small house, seemingly abandoned some time ago; yes, she recognized this area quite well.

She didn't know the Major who was waiting for her, though he looked slightly familiar; he was an American and she tended to avoid the American officers whenever possible. She didn't think most of the British ones were any great shakes either of course, but most were a fraction better than the Yanks.

This stern looking man was looking highly uncomfortable, and she coldly tried to assess just what odd vibrations he was giving off.

"Miss O'Donnell, we need your help with something; well, we and one of your occasional working . . ." He seemed stumped for what word he was groping for, and she waited, just a polite and slightly disoriented look on her face. "Well, we'll let him tell you," and motioned her to the next room.

If shock appeared on her face, well, that could only be expected for in truth she was shocked. {"Bloody hell! Another one?"}

The extremely battered and bruised man slumped on a cot was liberally spattered with blood, his clothes dirty - oh, not too much - she thought someone had gone to a lot of trouble to make this appear real. She decided at least most if not all of the bruises were fake, having seen Actor create such with his make-up kit, though the blood might be real, if possibly not his own. His pained, sorrowful eyes were the same hazy blue as the ones she loved, his hair the same shade of flaxen blond and she thought it was actually his natural shade, even his throat and jaw line were much too close for comfort. It was disconcerting to see someone so very much like her laddie but not him, and if she knew nothing else, it was how to recognize Goniff, no matter what disguise or in what condition.

Still, they'd gone to such trouble, she didn't want to disappoint them, and playing along would probably be the only way to determine just what the hell was going on. But she wasn't sure just how much they knew, just what they would be expecting, so she settled for a puzzled frown, still letting those imaginary effects from what she figured probably had been drugged food or drink come to the forefront, slow her reactions.

"Goniff? What on earth? What happened," making her way over to him, to sit beside him, touch him, lean in as if to check his injuries. She inhaled deeply, now even more shocked, for while this wasn't her love, his scent had some of the same undertones, much closer than the other imposter had had. The faint thought came to her, wondering if there was any possibility of Goniff having been a twin, for this was an uncanny resemblance.

The voice wasn't quite as raspy, but close, more an imitation there, not his natural tones, "Meghada! Did they tell you? They're gone, all of them! The Warden, the guys, even Major Richards! It all went to ruddy 'ell at the last minute; I was still on the outside when it 'appened or I'd 'ave been dead too!"

"What??! Are you sure? Perhaps they were captured! Tell me!"

And he poured out the whole story, and a convincing story it was, and he played his part quite well, all the emotions coming into play at just the right moment, moving swiftly to the next expected one. She forced tears to her eyes to match the increasingly distraught look she'd worked so hard to put on her face. He allowed her a few minutes before he started to work the game; someone had coached him well.

"Meghada, you 'ave to 'elp me; they say I aint no use without the others. They're gonna send me back; you know I won't last, not on my own!"

She blinked rapidly, "what do you need from me, Goniff? You know I'll help if I can."

"The stash, the goods! You know where it is!"

She looked at him blankly, "I don't understand. What stash?"

He got more agitated, "w'at we got on those little side jobs! It's all tucked away, and I need my share. They say they'll let me go, just let me get lost if I give them the rest! Please, Meghada!"

She shook her head in confusion, "but I don't know anything about any stash, Goniff. And besides, wouldn't you know where it was, if part of it was yours? No, Goniff, I'm not doubting you," as he got almost frantic now, "but I truly don't understand!"

"I knew, acourse, but they moved it! But 'e would've told you; 'e told you most everything!"

He looked a little shame-faced now, "see, we were playing cards, and it was part of the deal that we wouldn't put up our part, any of it, as a stake in the games, but I 'ad a beautiful 'and, Meghada, and no money to match w'at they were putting in, you understand? So I did, and I lost; Casino cheated, I know 'e did; no way 'e could've won otherwise. But they moved it, just to teach me a lesson. Later, they told me that's all it was; they were gonna tell me where it was, give me what I needed to get my share if it all went bad. But it all 'appened before they could, now I don't 'ave anything, and they're gonna send me back, and I can't do that, Meghada!"

He was almost hysterical now, not over-acting as such, more like he was forgetting this was just a con, but the differences between him and her laddie becoming more and more apparent with each moment. Maybe it was that his scent was intensifying and let her pinpoint every tiny difference, maybe it was the way he was allowing himself to get caught up in his story, almost half believing it himself at this point, losing a bit of self-control. Goniff would never have done that, she knew that from experience; self-control had been too harshly won for her laddie for him to lose it so quickly.

"Calm down, Goniff." She let her tone get slightly exasperated, slightly harsh. "He never told me about the stash, where it might be, how to get to it," waving aside his outburst, his protest. "I said calm down! But just because he never told me, doesn't mean we can't figure it out. He would have left a trail; you know how he was," she paused to let those ever so dramatic tears reach her eyes again, let that mournful look fill them as well. "He knew all my little hidey-holes, and I knew about the few he had of his own up at the Mansion. You know how he was; I'm inclined to think he might have used both; he did like his back-up plans, you know." 

A voice from the doorway, "who, Miss O'Donnell. Who did Goniff think would have told you? And just as importantly for our purposes, perhaps, WHY would he have not told you this oh-so-important thing if he told you everything else?"

She cast her eyes back at the slender blond man sitting so tensely on the side of the bed, "you didn't tell him?"

The pale face flushed, and in a low voice, with eyes downcast, "didn't seem right, since you never let anyone outside the team know." She nodded as if that made perfect sense, {"and a perfect way to cover the fact that, while they'd probably heard rumors aplenty, they didn't know; well, of course not, not with them using this one pretending to be Goniff. Well, it's working to my advantage now!"}.

"Yes, well, I doubt Craig would mind so very much now, Goniff," she murmured reassuringly. She turned to the officer, "he told me most things, yes, but if this was something between him and the guys, he'd possibly have been reluctant, especially if the stash was obtained under dubious circumstances. He wouldn't really approve, and certainly wouldn't have wanted to involve me. He did try to keep them somewhat on the straight and narrow, although with mixed results, I must admit."

She took a closer look at the man in the Army Major's uniform. "And you, your part in this? You're after the money or jewels or whatever you think is in that 'stash'?"

The stern looking man frowned indignantly, "of course not, at least not in the way you mean! Those were ill-gotten goods, obtained while those men were in service to the Allied Forces. They need to be taken into safe-keeping, for return to the proper owners after the hostilities have stopped! We are prepared to allow this man a portion," a serious frown at 'Goniff', "a small portion, along with his freedom, in return for his cooperation," eliciting an indignant squawk from the small man.

"You promised me my share!"

"Yes, whatever share we decided to give you; don't complain, it'll be enough to get you away once we turn you loose," came in a hard voice.

"Now, be reasonable, Miss O'Donnell; we accept you had no part in this, not knowingly, but surely you want to put things right! It was really unforgivable to be put in the middle of such a scheme without your knowledge, don't you think?"

His eyes were kind, now, almost paternal. She wanted to snarl at him, possible disembowel him, but reluctantly conceded this was probably not the best time, though certainly something worth keeping in mind for the future. She thought over how this might possibly end; did this man expect to pull such a stunt and just calmly go about his duties? Did he not expect a reaction from the team when they DID get back, from her once she found she'd been conned? She just couldn't see anything for it but a bad end, for her and for the imposter perched on the side of that bed, not unless this man was really very, very stupid. But, she hadn't seen any indications that he was, not so far.

She wondered if the man pretending to be the team's resident pickpocket understood this man possibly intended to see him dead before this was over; he surely wouldn't have wanted anyone left to identify him, to talk about any of this to Garrison and the guys when they got back, to Kevin or anyone else. She also was probably intended for a shallow grave; surely her reputation didn't allow for someone playing her for a dupe and surviving her finding that out, and then again she could identify them to everyone involved; yes, this was truly intended to be her swan song.

Well, maybe she could substitute a dragon roar; surely that would suffice! She thought about the surrounding area, the time she'd spent here over the years, the dangerous games she'd played on these cliffs. {"Maybe a dragon flight??"}. Well, she'd just have to play it by ear.

Cavendish, yes, she remembered his name now, as he introduced himself, {"and isn't that interesting, using his own name?"} Major Lucas Cavendish, US Army, urged her on, "you were saying you had, what did you call them, hidey-holes? And that Lieutenant Garrison had some of his own at the Mansion? And just where would those be?"

She looked at him, appraisingly. "I want to be sure Goniff is doing this because it's what he wants. I perhaps owe him something; I don't owe you anything. I don't even know you. I'll talk to him, alone, and then I'll decide whether I show you all the places that information might be."

It was obvious Cavendish didn't like that. "And why would we let you do that?"

She smiled, and it wasn't as pleasant a smile as it could have been, and he was rather taken aback, feeling the balance of power shift slightly. "Because if you don't, I tell you nothing, and you can go fish."

Cavendish frowned harshly, "you'd let him go back to prison? Somehow I thought you were closer to those men than that." 

She shrugged, "I was close, as you put it, to Craig Garrison, reasonably fond of his men. I owed each of them some consideration for all they went throught together. But truly, that debt died with the man. And," and her smile got colder, "besides, if I don't tell you, what can you do, besides send Goniff back to prison? Frankly, even if you turned him loose, hell, even if he got the parole, well, you and I both know he'd end up right where he started within six months," and listened to the shrill protests from the slender blond man. 

"Oh for heavens sake, Goniff," she said impatiently, "you know damned well it was Craig who got you out, and it was only Craig who's been able to keep you out. That was your only chance, that he continued that mother hen role he played with you, you more than any of the other guys, probably from now til doomsday. Frankly, I sometimes found it a little annoying, you know. Sometimes it seemed like we had two children, you and Britta, and sometimes it was difficult to tell who was the younger."

The blond looked startled, glanced furtively at Cavendish who also looked startled. Somehow none of this was the reaction they'd obviously hoped for, and that last little bit, well, that really threw them.

"Britta?"

She answered, "our daughter, of course, Craig's and mine. Goniff didn't mention her? She's in a safe place, well cared for, so don't think to use her as a weapon against me either. Frankly, if Goniff can't convince me, alone, in private - and not in here - I'm not that much of a fool, then that will be a nice little inheritance for our baby. I'm sure my people will come across the stash sooner or later; I'm sure Craig would be pleased at that thought."

She let him know by that last statement that she knew her chances were slim to none if she didn't cooperate, but also that she was rock stubborn, and wouldn't be forced into helping them.

"So, Cavendish, what's it to be? Goniff and I take a little walk, along the cliff edge perhaps, so you can watch and be sure I don't make a run for it. Let him have his try at convincing me. I admit he has a claim; I'm not particularly eager to see him back behind bars, even if I do find him more than a little irritating at times. And truly, if he does end up there, I imagine he'll just expect me to get him out and take care of him like Craig did, but maybe I owe Craig that as well. And, I'm hardly a pauper; Britta is already well provided for, she'll have no real need for whatever is in that stash. I'm willing to consider what you're asking. But, it's all up to you now, Cavendish."

This bluff pretty much depended on how stupid Cavendish really thought she was, how unconcerned she was with her own impending mortality, but she hadn't been particularly impressed with his intelligence so far so she thought her odds were pretty good.

Cavendish hemmed and hawed, tried a few threats, some bluster, but in the end had them shepherded to the grass and shrub narrows outlining the cliffs overlooking the sea. The men stayed back, enough they had some privacy if they kept their voices fairly low, but spread out in a rough semi-circle, cutting off any avenue of escape. There were only four of them, including Cavendish, but that was enough with this landscape, or so you would think.

Meghada paced rapidly back and forth a few feet back from the edge, the slender blond having no alternative but to scurry to keep up with her if he wanted to continue his importunities. He kept taking nervous glances at the rock and sand beach below. She finally cut him off with a blunt, "you do know they intend to kill you once they find what they want," and he stopped, his jaw dropping.

"No! They'd 'ave no reason . . ."

"Oh, do show some sense! Why would they keep you alive to identify them, to tell the tale? You, or me either for that matter. Are you really that desperate for money to take such a stupid chance with your life??" looking at him with exasperation. Somehow, from the look on his face, this scolding wasn't exactly what he'd been expecting.

She shook her head, pacing again, edging her way closer to the spot she'd been aiming for all this time, him following after, now arguing with her fervently. She let the men watching get a good look at him swinging his arms in anxious frustration, letting his body language tell its own story, and she went into an apparent rage herself, her voice now raised to the carrying point.

"And why should I help you in the first place? Miserable little coward! How do I know you couldn't have gotten them out of there? How do I even know you didn't set them up, trying to keep all of that precious stash for yourself? Miserable lying little bastard!"

Now she was shrieking at him, her own arms swinging overhead, then one reaching out to hit him, hard, pushing him toward the edge. He lost his balance, flailing to retrieve it, but before he could she barrelled into him, driving them over and down. It was difficult gauging it, just far enough momentum to go over, not so far as to take them away from any possible handholds.

She'd only done this free-style a few times, having started with an anchored rope til she'd gained her confidence; her cousin, appalled when he'd found out, had made her promise not to do it again, but she figured he'd forgive her - that is, if she lived long enough to explain her actions. She'd grabbed the small blond man, held him tightly to her, though she was debating the wisdom of that as his screams echoed in her ears.

Clutching at branches with her one free hand, trying to swing them inward, she lucked out a goodly way down. Hopefully it was far enough down there would be no one trying to climb down after; surely they'd need ropes to attempt that, which should give them a little time, and her knives were securely where she always kept them, and she could defend this position from any attempt from above and possibly from below, though she doubted they'd be too eager to try that. Climbing that insecure cliff from the rocks below wouldn't be easy, not unless they'd done considerable cliff climbing in their past. She knew; she'd done it more than a few times, gaining her own collection of bruises and scrapes in the learning.

She thought a moment and ripped off her skirt, leaving her in the slim trousers she wore underneath, and yanked off her companion's shirt, bespattering them with the blood drawn by their wild plunge, and tossing them over the side to land how they would, trying to get them out far enough to be sighted from above but not so far out someone would see their empty passage.

She spared a look for her companion, now moaning and opening those too familiar blue eyes. He looked around to see where they were, groaned, "you're fucking crazy, you know that!"

"Yes, well, that's been said a time or two. Keep your voice down! Now, are you going to behave yourself, or do I have to gag you? Or maybe . . . " She smiled, showing him one of the knives, and he swallowed hard.

"You wouldn't use that," he protested, and she gave just a tiny chuckle deep in her throat.

"Oh, you really are a foolish one! Of course I would; it's what I've been trained for, didn't they tell you that? Of course, Goniff would know just what I'm capable of; he's seen me in battle more than once."

And the wide eyes and shocked expression told her he'd not realized just how badly he'd misplayed his role.

"Yes, well, I suppose you can't blame yourself too much; you were working from inadequate, if not outright bad information. Still, to let yourself get caught up in such a foolish venture! I sometimes think Goniff is the only one with Redmond blood with any sense, right OR wrong side of the blanket! Probably gets it from his mother's side," seeing the increasing level of shock on that pale face.

"Shush," she frowned, putting her finger to her lips, taking a quick glance above. She looked back to see him taking a deep breath; he might not have been preparing to call out, but she wasn't taking the chance. It took only a moment to have him gagged with the strip of her one remaining blouse sleeve that she'd already had in hand should it be needed. His glare was certainly in earnest, but she didn't take it to heart. She'd probably have done the same in his place. 

 

***

Major Kevin Richards was not in a good frame of mind. He'd been waiting for two hours for the Dragon to show up for her debriefing, and finally had called down to Folkestone only to be told she'd been collected by one of the usual escorts hours ago. He checked on Garrison's team, to find them safe and sound at the Mansion, just as they should be, but with no knowledge of the young woman's whereabouts. The tone in Garrison's voice told Richards that the news of her disappearance wasn't setting too well in that corner either. It was agreed any news would be relayed to the Mansion; though Richards didn't really approve of the relationship there, he was past trying to fight it, well, at least at the moment, and he just might need their help.

The phone call many hours later set him rushing out of his office, telling no one of his destination except for his driver, actually named James, which Garrison's guys thought was hilarious. James had been with him for quite some time, had proved reliable and discreet, and Richards trusted him as much as he did anyone in the military chain any more. Following instructions, they left the car behind the pub in Brandonshire and a burly bartender led them through a wooded patch to come up on the cottage from the rear, even coming in through an entrance Richards had never known was there, was pretty sure he'd not have discovered if he hadn't had a guide. Inside Garrison and his men were waiting, all armed as if headed out on a mission over the Channel.

"So, what's the situation?" he asked, that phone call not having told him anything of importance except that his presence was needed, immediately. So they filled him in on what little they knew, and as ludicrous as it all sounded, the grim looks on their faces told him they did believe it, all of it.

"So we wait?" and received a determined nod, "so we wait."

So they came, first the four armed men who pushed in through the unlocked gate, broke in the kitchen door, only to find themselves disarmed and flat on the floor before they knew what had happened. Now, bound hand and foot, propped up against the wall, Major Cavendish tried to talk his way out of the situation til Richards grew tired of his mouthings, tired of watching Garrison and his men grow increasingly angry and restless. At his instructions, Cavendish was gagged, and the others as well, just for good measure.

The phone rang and everyone jumped. Goniff held up his hand, "wait, let it ring," and though Richards didn't like it, he kept back. It stopped after three rings, quiet, then another two rings, quiet. On the third try, Goniff picked up the phone, and his face relaxed into deep relief as he listened, "yeah, we'll be waiting."

The smile on his face as he looked at them wasn't a very nice one, but his words reassured them, "she's on 'er way, with a little surprise she says. Said not to damage the major too much; she 'as plans for 'im," and the unpleasant smile got even more so as he looked at the bound and gagged man sitting on the floor. "I don't think she's too 'appy with 'im for some reason," he confided to the others, and that got a snort or two of agreement.

"Did she give you any idea of just what on earth this is all about, other than the little we already know?" Richards asked. 

"No, figure she'll tell us when she gets 'ere; said about twenty minutes."

Goniff busied himself putting on a pot of coffee, another of tea to brew, rummaging in the pantry, the cold box, as the others watched, some with amusement at how well he knew his way around, Richards being not so terribly amused at this decidedly domestic turn. When the pickpocket started adding bits and pieces to that pot of tinned soup, causing the aroma to switch from ho-hum to something rather enticing, Casino snickered and Goniff turned pink.

"Don't start, not if you want some of this later. She don't like it much straight out of the tin, so she showed me 'ow to perk it up some in case she's not able. You can slice off some of that cheese and get a jar of pickles out of the pantry. There's bound to be a tin of biscuits in there, too. Can't expect 'er to be busying 'erself getting food together, not the way she sounded, and I expect she'll be needing it. Sounded done in, she did." Casino meekly did as he was asked, Chief sliced the loaves of bread, while Goniff got down the various cups, along with glasses and a bottle of bourbon. No one bothered to check to see how the four bound men were taking this, no one really caring except to see that they were still securely in place. It wasn't like they were likely to be sharing in any of this anyway.

By the time the past weary duo made their way in through the broken kitchen door, the coffee and tea were ready, the bread sliced and toasted, butter, cream cheese, pot of soup heating nicely, all the rest just waiting. She paused briefly, inhaling the welcome scent of the soup, tinned of course, but doctored well with extras Goniff had found and boding to be quite acceptable. She looked around with warmth at the men waiting for her, but with an anxious frown at missing the one most important to her; a reassuring nod from Garrison, and a sound from the next room let her exhale with relief and only then did she spare a look of cold satisfaction at the four men on the floor, watching their eyes wide with shock at the sight of her.

She turned, and said rather impatiently, "well, come along with you; I'm more than ready for a hot bath and a sit down, and not so long in patience right now." There was dead silence then an outburst of talking, questions, as she tugged the slender blond, now much the worse for wear; those fake bruises had been replaced by quite real ones collected during their adventure, the blood now really his.

Casino swore heartily, "sheesh, kid! Not another one! What are you doing, startin a collection or something?"

She sighed heavily, "aye, Casino, another one, and trying to play the part just like the other."

Goniff popped his head in from the bedroom, taking in the scene with one glance.

"Ruddy 'ell! Just 'ow many of us are there out there??!"

"Obviously enough to cause considerable confusion, as if you couldn't cause enough on your own," Actor said with a wry shake of his head.

Goniff frowned at the man as if puzzled at that comment, then switched his gaze to the young woman, "ei, luv, you look a right mess! W'at's the damage?" coming close to tip her head from one side to the other, searching her body, her face with his eyes.

"Just bruises, I think, though I'm as tired as I've been in a long time," she admitted.

He pulled her toward the bedroom, "there's a 'ot bath waiting, mineral salts and all, and food after that, then you can tell us all about it, then I'll get you settled in a nice warm bed. Now 'ow does all that sound?" and she looked at him, relieved at it being him this time.

"Well enough, but perhaps something else first," and, chuckling warmly, he pulled her into his arms and hugged her tight, then kissed her thoroughly but gently.

"For a downpayment, then?" and she hugged him tightly in return.

"Aye, that's just what I needed, at least, til later," and their soft laughs blended together.

The slender blond man who was still standing in the middle of the kitchen hadn't managed to close his mouth yet, his jaw still gaping.

She looked back over her shoulder at him, rank amusement in her face, "settle him down, if you will, but keep track of him; I don't want him scurrying off somewhere. If you don't mind, I really need that hot bath before I tell the story," and they all possessed themselves in patience while she took care of that little thing. "I could use a drink, though," she began, only to get a quiet nod, "waiting on the side in there, luv, just as you'd want, along with a tall glass of water," and she leaned her head against him and sighed, "you always know just what I need, don't you, laddie?" and they heard his murmur in return, but not enough to make out the words, just her soft laughter in return.

Garrison turned to the one man yet unidentified, "and what do we call you?"

Those hazy blue eyes snapped to the man in the Lieutenant's uniform, "Myers, Denny Myers." His eyes wandered back to that doorway, then it just burst out of him. "Not YOU, then, but 'im?? She was lying to us?" and the offended dignity in his face, his voice brought a laugh from more than one of the crew.

"Yeah, well, don't know what yer talking about exactly, but wouldn't be surprised." 

"A stash? So you have a stash? Just how did that come about, and just where? And how did they find out about it?" Richards was not amused, and Garrison either to judge by the loud voices emanating from each of them.

Meghada, though, had a sly grin on her face, actually giggled, drawing their attention to her; well, it would, giggling not being something they be accustomed to hearing from her, though the two angry ones put it down to her being overly-tired. She had warned Goniff during their brief moments of privacy and he'd tipped the wink to the guys to play innocent with all their might, and be ready to lie like a dog.

She sipped at her refilled glass of amber liquid, "Angus McReady, if you can believe. Went sidling up to Cavendish, dropping hints, you know the drill, Craig; we do it all the time, getting the mark interested, then hungry for what you have to offer. Don't know how he knew Cavendish was in the market, but that's Angus for you, has more ears to the ground than most any other, and like his name, always ready to make use of whatever he hears."

Goniff snorted, "wonder 'ow much the old geezer got for 'is 'information'?"

"Fifty pounds is my understanding! Well enough for what he was offering, I'd say!"

She turned to enlighten the other men, them slightly puzzled by this casual knowledge of the information broker. "Old Angus is what you call a 'master weaver'. He takes bits of this rumor and that one and another, adds a dash of whispers, stirs in some innuendo, and spins the thread; then uses that with some of the wants and hopes of the mark to weave the cloth; cuts it to size, spruces it up with some fancy trimmings or gold buttons and voila! has a lovely bit of fantasy to sell you. He's been selling 'information' for as long as anyone can remember. Damned good at it too; could sell you his grandmother's teeth, her being dead these many years and toothless along with it! And Cavendish was so greedy, he bought the tale, hook line and sinker!"

"They found our Mr. Myers somewhere and kept watch til I was due back from a mission, but before I could have any contact with you guys; had me picked up by someone who'd done escort service before, someone I wouldn't be overly suspicious of, and made their play. That's Corporal White, by the way, Kevin, and I assure you I'll not be accepting escort by him anytime in the future, nor any of the other teams; in this up to his ears. Handled it well, they did, I have to admit; would have worked better for them if I'd eaten or drunk what they had in that basket in the car probably; I don't know it was tampered with, but it makes sense that it would have been, maybe just a bit to make me a little less sharp. Something felt a little off, though, so I didn't partake, just made it look like I had; I stashed the remains under the seat; might still be worth testing.

And Mr. Myers runs a pretty nice con, I have to admit, had the play down nicely enough, all angst and anguish and desperation; might have been convincing if it hadn't been me; well, couldn't expect me to be taken in by his pretending to be Goniff, would you?"

Myers had been quiet til then, "and Britta? Is she 'is as well, not Garrison's?"

And the puzzled looks on everyone's face made him give her a dirty look, "and that was a lie too? No baby, off safely in good 'ands, a baby that stash would be a good inheritance for? A baby you'd have good reason to want to make it back to?." And the amused shake of her head had him groaning again. He looked at the others indignantly, looking for sympathy that was sadly lacking.

"Aint enough she lies to me left and right, says all those mean things about me, I mean, 'im ; she tosses me off a bloody cliff! Then, we duck through all those tunnels, water up to yer ankles, and bats flying around, and then walk for miles once we get back outside. Never let me outta 'er sight, either, not even when I told 'er I 'ad to take a leak. No, just says 'then do, I'm not stopping you," like it didn't bother 'er a bit! And it didn't; didn't even turn 'er 'ead! She's no proper lady, I can tell you that!"

He probably never understood the roar of laughter that came from Garrison and his men, even from Major Richards at that bitter statement. Goniff was still laughing when he told the imposter, "no, she ruddy well aint," as he pulled the smiling redhead onto his lap, hugging her tightly to him. "A Dragon, that she is, my 'Gaida, but not a lady." And he whispered directly into her ear, "well, cept MY lady, acourse!" 

Kevin Richards sat at the kitchen table, the four men now safely on their way back to London in the custody of men he felt he could trust to get them there and damned well keep them there, out of sight and contact til he could deal with this whole mess.

"No, Lieutenant Miles, they're not under arrest as such, not yet anyway; but they've just been up to some serious mischief that needs to be dealt with properly or there could be charges. I don't want them wandering off or trying to get out of this; I'd like to save their careers if I possibly can. Oh, and when you get back, collect Corporal White, the one that does escort service for us sometimes, picking up and delivering the agents, you know. Same thing, but keep him separate from this lot." That got him some odd looks from the four men, but they left peacefully enough.

He pondered the drink in his hand, looked around at four men sitting there with him.

"So this McReady sells Cavendish a bill of goods, somehow knowing the man would bite. Cavendish pulls Corporal White into the mix, having him pick her up at the submarine pen and spirit her off. It'll be interesting to have the contents of that basket examined, see if they were tampered with. Lucky 'suspicious' seems to be second nature for her. She tumbles to the act for sure when they present their 'Goniff', plays the whole lot of them, makes off with their imposter by diving off a cliff!"

He shook his head and took another drink, "why she didn't end up with a broken neck is beyond me!"

Chief made a rough noise of amusement in his throat, "told me once she spent a lot of time around Ramsgate, had family and friends there; told me there was some good climbing, rappelling, offered to take me there ta give it a try some day. Said there were caves and tunnels leading back around, all over the place; used to be used by smugglers. She lucked out that was where they ended up. Still, coulda gone wrong easy enough, heading over the side like that."

"Yes, well, that would account for it. Myers must have been ready to pass out when she took him off the edge, though!"

They were all keeping their voices low; Meghada and Goniff had disappeared into the bedroom about fifteen minutes ago with the spoken intention of settling her down for a nap. The door to the bedroom opened and then closed quietly. Garrison looked up, reached out to pour bourbon into the glass waiting at the empty chair.

"She gone off then?" came from Chief.

"Just now. She's gonna be stiff and sore when she wakes up, more than she is now. Just bruises, she said, but ruddy 'ell, there's more than enough of them, and more than a few bone deep! What's gonna 'appen to that bastard, Major?"

There was no answer, and frowns grew on their faces.

"Major? Exactly what aren't you telling us?"

Major Richards heaved a deep sigh, "the problem is, it is her word against theirs. Corporal White, Major Cavendish, the other two. Myers is no great witness, even if he would cooperate, and from the sound of it he isn't any too pleased with her right now," referring to the double now safely ensconced with one of the cousins who'd driven down to collect him. "I doubt Mr. McReady will be a credible witness either. And when the subject is this supposed stash of ill-gotten good, and there's many who'll believe it exists, then it gets even more muddied."

Goniff squawked at him, "you're saying 'e'll get away with this?" and a deep growl permeated the room, seeming to come from each member of the team.

"I didn't say that, but it is a possibility. It depends on what we can prove, AND how serious I can get anyone to take the affair," he admitted. "It wouldn't be outside the realm of possibilities for Cavendish to put it down to anything from a elaborate practical joke to a well-intended manoeuver to reclaim stolen property, all in the name of the Allied Forces; just doing his duty as he saw it, you might say."

"You might say that, Major; I rather doubt any of us would be inclined do so," came rather coldly from the tall Italian con man and the reaction from the other men was even more intent.

Garrison hurried to keep things from getting out of hand, "calm down, and keep it down. Don't wake her up. Major, what can we do to help? You know it's likely Cavendish never intended to let her out of this alive, her or Myers either. He can't just walk away from that!"

"Yes, well, I don't like the idea either, but we'll have to see just how much we can gather. I wonder where Mr. McReady got his information," casting a suspicious eye around the table, only to get a disgusted snort from Goniff.

"Same place 'e gets most of 'is information, Major. Figures out what someone wants to 'ear, then delivers just enough to 'int that 'e's got the inside track. You know there's been whispers, ruddy 'ell, a lot more than whispers around HQ almost since the beginning. Probably could make quite a list of all we're supposed to be getting up to, dirty deeds, dirty 'abits, you've probably 'eard more than we 'ave".

And Richards had to admit that was true. And if all those rumors had been true, he rather thought the men would be seriously sleep-deprived, there not being enough hours in the day to cover it all.

But when Meghada awoke, somewhat refreshed from her nap, she had an idea that, although it didn't provide the same swift punishment as everyone wanted, still it did provide a way to be relatively sure Cavendish didn't try to turn this around to a self-righteous 'just doing my duty as I saw it'. If it made the Major look more than a little foolish, his actions good-intentioned maybe but ill-advised in the extreme, well, no one in the room objected to that very much. If she had longer-range plans for the men, well, she didn't bother to discuss them.

It was a very stern-faced trio that sat in front of Major Cavendish, Corporal White and the other two men, one Lieutenant Dixon and the lowly Private Krebs. General McCloud spoke first, "Major, I'll address my remarks mostly to you, since you are the instigator of this little fishing expedition of yours."

That caused some rapid blinking on the part of Cavendish and the others, 'fishing expedition' not being a term they were expecting to hear and defend against. Kidnapping, yes; breaking and entering, certainly; and others of that nature, but 'fishing expedition'? They listened intently, Cavendish rapidly trying to process this, seeing if he could turn it to his advantage.

"Oh, I can quite see your motivation but really, Major! This was rather a sophomoric attempt, in my estimation. Yes, I've read your statement, and I agree, if Garrison's team had been up to mischief and had a stolen stash of money or goods, retrieving that would perhaps have been a worthwhile goal, though how you thought we could identify the rightful owners is quite beyond me. But, really, to accept the word of a known con man like Angus McReady? I would have expected better of you. If you'd asked around you'd have known the man has been selling 'information' for most of his life, and so far as anyone can remember, never has it been anything but a fabrication based on what the 'buyer' wanted to hear!" 

The other general at the table, spoke next, "I have to admit the thing that strikes me was just how far you were willing to go for this little 'fishing expedition'; I for one am not so sure I'm comfortable with that relatively benign term, Major. You had Corporal White pick up a operative, direct from a job on the Continent, before she'd been debriefed, a clear breach of security, before she'd been offered any relief or medical attention and spirit her away to play your games. I personally believe the sedative we found in the remains of the sandwich was rather hitting below the belt, sir. You then lied to her most eggregiously, trying to convince her of the deaths of persons known to her, fellow agents she was likely to feel some concern, perhaps some affection for. When she became agitated, instead of pulling the plug on your game, you pushed her far enough she felt she had to escape at any cost, and in doing so suffered physical damage. No thanks to you it wasn't much worse than it was; she could easily have been killed. You then compounded all of the above by forcing your way into her house, through a locked door, who knows with what intent. I think all that goes a bit far, though I am being encouraged by others here to consider it that not truly ill-meant. Well, if that's the case, then I must say I find your judgement highly impaired and untrustworthy, Major. And while you were the instigator, as for the rest of you, do not begin to imagine your actions do you any favor. This is hardly a case where 'just obeying orders' can be any justification. I think you have all forgotten just who the enemy is we are supposed to be fighting!"

General McCloud cleared his throat, "General, I do believe you are being a bit harsh. I do believe Major Cavendish has been misled by rumors and whispers that have been going around; you've heard those as well as I. Now, I place no credence in them, of course; Garrison's team might be unconventional but they are rather basic sorts, hardly the type to be in possession of a great deal of money without making a show of it; I don't think they'd be able to resist playing the 'big man about town', and that hasn't been the case."

"And really, Major, if anyone were to take the time and energy to tabulate all the rumors that float around this place, it would be a full time job and I am sure the results would range from the just plain silly to the legally actionable. I must admit, though, I am quite disappointed by your actions. Surely you have better things to do with your time; I would have thought your assigned duties would occupy you to the exclusion of such nonsense. I know Major Richards is decidedly unamused at the delay in debriefing Miss O'Donnell, and at her injuries; he seems to feel it rather detrimental to the war effort since he's had to place her on stand-down for an undetermined length of time."

The third man, not in uniform, and unidentified, sat there purse-lipped, a disapproving frown on his face through both parts of that conversation. Somehow he made the four men more uncomfortable than being in the presence of the two ranking officers, them being totally in the dark as to his position, purpose or authority. The narrow faced man leaned in to speak with the other two, and they seemed to be discussing, perhaps debating something most vociferously.

Finally, with a sigh, General McCloud nodded and leaned back in his chair. "Very well, you gentlemen are released to assume your regular duties. While this event will go in your files, no immediate disciplinary action will be taken unless you decide to continue your inappropriate activities. We do advise you not to approach Miss O'Donnell or Lieutenant Garrison and his men; they are not much in charity with you at the moment, and we will not look favorably upon any of you should there be any unpleasant episodes. That we were able to elicit their cooperation in the speedly resolution of this matter should be looked upon as manna from heaven, you might say, and certainly not to be taken advantage of!"

Major Cavendish heaved a sigh of relief, that all having gone much better than he anticipated. He did have to wonder at the absence of any mention of the impostor they'd hired, but decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth. A quick word with each of the others and it was decided - this ended, here and now, when the worst they had was a mention in their files. And as for Garrison's team? Miss O'Donnell? Well, they'd keep their distance from those rather dangerous individuals, each of them, and only hope and pray that decision was mutual. Hopefully those transfers they'd each put in for came through in a hurry; they weren't even overly particular about where, just away. Strange, how that worked out; off to a particularly nasty sandpit, they were, almost overnight. Must have been fate.

Back at the Mansion drinks were being shared out, and conversation flowing.

"What happened to whats his name? The other Goniff?" Casino asked, to get a crisp, "Denny Myers was hardly another Goniff! And he's off with some Friends, seeing if he's redeemable. If they judge he is, they'll put some effort into the project; if not, they'll cut him loose."

"Why bother? Keeping him around just complicates things the way I see it," came as a serious question from Chief.

It was their resident pickpocket who answered, a slightly worried frown on his face, "well, that's true enough. Just, we were talking, and something seemed off; I mean, 'e was just too close, 'air, eyes; like lookin in a ruddy mirror! 'Gaida says even 'is smell was too close," not noticing the uncomfortable glances his team mates exchanged at that little bit of information. "Asked 'im right out, and 'e told me, 'is birth date, I mean. Same as mine, mates."

Garrison frowned in turn, "Cavendish could have gotten that from your files," to get a slightly sheepish smile, "my real birth date, not the one in the file; never fancied the pencil pushers knowing that. No, 'is matched my real birth date, month, day, year; 'ave to ask Mum about that, but 'ave to wonder, you know?"

Casino snorted and gave a laugh, looking at Meghada, "shit, kid! I was right! Yer starting a collection. Well, might come in handy, having another one as a spare," and retreated rapidly as she turned on him and slapped him hard on the side of his head, and he realized she wasn't kidding, she was seriously pissed! His ears were still ringing!

Chief stepped in between quickly before Goniff could, "Casino, shut it!"

Casino, seeing the anger, the totally unexpected dampness in those gold brown eyes, did so; he might not understood why she was so upset, but he figured he'd just better step back and let her calm down. He'd seen that Goniff had flinched at his remark too, and didn't understand that any better.

He watched as Goniff pulled her onto his lap, "shush, luv. 'e's an idiot sometimes, but 'e didn't mean anything by it, you know 'e didn't," and held her close. The others may have had their own ideas, but no one was willing to voice them, and Casino never quite had the nerve to ask her outright. 

He did ask Chief a couple of days later, two days of feeling guilty but not quite sure what he should be guilty about.

Chief just shook his head, "Casino. . . " and sighed.

"Look, you said she was startin a collection, that it might not be a bad thing having a spare." He looked at Casino as if expecting any of that to ring more of a bell than it had the first time, but obviously it didn't by the look on the safecracker's face. Chief wasn't much of a one for spelling things out, but he'd found with Casino and Goniff, sometimes you just had to.

"It's like you were telling em both, if Goniff dont come back from a job some time, that's alright, not a big deal, we got a spare. And her too; he don't come back, well, she'll have another just like him to pull into her bed, probably never even know the difference. HQ may believe that, that none of us matter too much, we can be replaced easy and not be missed. Don't make it so. And for them to hear you spouting that, yeah, it had ta sting, you know."

Casino stood there with a dumbfounded look on his face. "Shit, Indian! Never meant any of that! Those others looking like him, don't make them him! Wouldn't be the same without the little Limey! I was just making noise, you know that!"

"Yeah, Casino, I know. And they do too, but I imagine it still hit em hard for a minute. Don't see either of em holding it against you; like Goniff said, you were just being an idiot, you didn't mean anything by it."

Later in the Common Room, everyone in their usual places, Goniff busy figuring what new and wonderful ways he could make those cards sit up and beg, Casino steeled himself.

"Hey, Goniff."

The slender Englishman lifted his eyes from the card array and looked over, "yeah, Casino?" startled to see the flush on those rough cheeks.

"What I said the other night, bout having a spare? I was just shootin off my mouth, like you said, being an idiot. Didn't mean nothin. Just wanted you to know," looking at Goniff, waiting for the answer, trying not to show how much that answer would mean.

He was relieved at the easy grin that came his way, that casual little one shoulder shrug, "ei, Casino, I know that. 'Gaida knows it too; she just got a little upset. Well, you know 'ow women are," ignoring the snickers and snorts from around at that calm, matter of fact statement from the man they considered appalling naive where those of the female persuasion were concerned, and the matter was done and over with, everything back to normal, or what passed for normal in the Mansion during these wartime days.


End file.
